Underworlds
by Inuzuka-93
Summary: Wizards are being overthrown by "Underworlders" who have decided to reclaim the magical world for themselves. Draco and Ron have been caught off-guard and must rely on each other to survive. Ron/Draco SLASH. Mature scenes to be expected.
1. Chapter 1: Unforseen Circumstances

**Underworlds**

**AN: Well, I've been dying to write some potter-fic for a while and this concept has been in mind for so long that I just had to write it. It is a RonXDraco Action/Romance. **

**There is a lot that happens before this chapter but I've decided to save all of that non-romancy stuff for a prequel, of sorts, after I finish this story. Hope you enjoy and don't get too bored too soon and be sure to tell me where I'm going wrong. Thanks a lot =]**

**Chapter 1: Unforseen Circumstances**

_Malfoy Manor_

Draco limped up the stone pathway, with a tear in his eye, to the giant wrought-iron gates to the grounds on which what was left of his family home stood. Even Weasley, his worst enemy, felt sorry for the silver-blond haired boy as it was apparent that the multi-story manor had seen its fair share of destruction during the war, though it was still to be determined if the damage had occurred before or after The Uprising. Clutching their _Folio Bruti _under his arm, Draco considered the possibility that his suggested "safehouse" would be teaming with the very characters they were running from in the first place.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward through the unopened gates, leaving Ron to watch in surprise as the iron melted around his slender body and reformed when he was on the other side. Draco turned round to look at the red-head staring dumbly at what he'd just seen – Draco swore he'd think the boy was a muggle if he didn't know any better. He considered leaving him standing there with that stupid look on his face then he remembered that Ron was currently carrying the one wand they had between them – as if he could even use it.

"What is it, Weasel?" Draco snorted in the other's general direction. "Did you forget we're in the middle of a war? Perhaps you want to be eaten alive by those..._things. _Lest you have forgotten we almost died an hour ago." Ron groaned and looked behind him before stepping up to the gate.

"How do I...?" he started, looking annoyed that he had to ask how to work the gate's magics.

"_You _wouldput one foot in front of the other," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. He then watched as Ron nervously passed through the enchanted metal. "It only keeps mudbl- _muggle-borns_ out." Ron's face morphed to an expression of disgust causing Draco to roll his eyes once again. "Do you really think now's the time for petty morals?" Ron's face softened at this and his eyes found Draco's briefly before the other boy looked away towards the front door. "Get your wand out, Weasel."

Ron raised the wand in front of him and took the lead, allowing Draco to fall a step or two behind. Cautiously the walked to the front door, back to back - a habit they'd picked up over the last few weeks as they had both found they did not enjoy being flanked. When they reached the ancient, silver-lined, oak door, Ron reached out and turned the handle with a shaky freckled hand.

"It's locked," he groaned, defeated.

"You have a wand, you imbecile," Draco exclaimed, panic in his voice, "use it!" The boy had gained a sense of agitation as a dark figure they had been evading was now standing in his line of vision, just beyond the hedgerows. "Come on, Weasley!"

Sensing Draco's urgency, Ron raised the wand to the lock and grunted, "**Alohamora**." There was a click from within the keyhole and Ron flung the door open and pulled Draco inside with just enough time to see the enchanted gate being torn from its hinges, wailing as if in agony.

As soon as he had crossed the threshold, Draco dropped the large volume from his arms and slammed the door shut so hard a vase fell from an end table and shattered on the marble floor. "Lock it, lock it!" he shrieked, clearly terrified.

"What's the spell?" Ron screamed back, just as scared. Draco's mouth hung open – he had no idea; he knew the spell but he could not remember it, for the life of him.

"Coll-" the blond said, wracking his brains. "Coll-something."

"Forget it," Ron said. "Look in the book and find a way to keep that thing off us!" Draco looked at Ron in awe: he wasn't actually being serious about fighting, was he? As far as he could remember, they'd only ever briefly covered _Vampires_ at Hogwarts, considering neither of them had stayed till N.E.W.T. Level. Seeing no other option, he quickly dived to the book and skimmed it's references.

"Fuck!" he yelled with frustration. "There's fifty-four pages!"

"Just find something!" Ron had opened the door and was watching as the dark figure glided up the path towards them, its features masked by the black shadow revolving around its floating form. "Any time would be good, Malfoy."

"I'm looking, I'm looking!"

Draco, skipped the long-winded introduction and began skimming the endless paragraphs for anything they could use with his blood rushing in his ears and his heart hammering against his ribcage. The ironic words of his father echoed in his mind: _Malfoys do not know fear. _

"_Bullshit", _Draco whispered under his breath – he would say he had never been so scared but the entire past few weeks had been the most fearful time of his life: the underworlders' assault on hogwarts, where the evacuation scheme had gone terribly wrong since he and – apparently – Weasley had experienced difficulties hanging onto their portkeys; being enthralled by merfolk at the coast they'd landed on, where Draco had lost his wand as they had scrambled up the cliff-side; he was almost torn apart by ghouls in the empty village they'd camped in to come up with a plan– though he hated to admit it, Weasley had really come through for him there – he could have walked away, unscathed, but he'd dispersed them – unarmed - and saved his life; and, finally, they'd been hunted relentlessly by this sadistic bitch of a vampire in their dreams every night.

"Malfoy!" Ron shouted, turning, white-faced with the wand aiming out of the door, to look urge a response from Draco.

"I can't find anything!" Draco replied as calmly as he could, though his voice still cracked. "Try stunning her!"

"What do you think I've been doing?" Ron was aimlessly firing off spells at the oncoming demon, each one lighting up the surprisingly soft-looking features of his face with vibrant red. Every spell that hit simply bounced off her revolving shadow cloak and faded into the night air.

She was so close, she was almost on top of them – they were desperate – she was at the doorstep. As the figure reached the door frame, mere inches from Ron who was frozen on the spot, she let out a shriek and retreated back a few feet. She tried, once again to enter and with the same effect.

Ron glanced at Draco who was suddenly standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him, watching the fiend's failing attempts to reach them. Their eyes met once before they returned their gaze to the vampire in the garden who was screaming at them in frustration – her shadow cloak had dissolved and they could now see her body. She had long black hair and was naked but had no female features at all – simply a female body-shape; her face was pointed and ugly and looked decayed at the nose and eyes.

The two boys looked at each other, amusement had momentarily replaced their fear. With the black shroud no longer covering her body, once more, Ron yelled, "**Stupefy!**" The red bolt hit the vampire square in her undead chest and she was thrown into the ground with enough force to crack the paving. Her body disappeared on impact and, although this was not the last of her, they closed the door and decided to worry about it later.

"You were shitting yourself, Weasley."

"Fuck you, Ferret."


	2. Chapter 2: Minor Threat

_**AN: This is quite a long chapter but it was relatively fun to write. Hopefully it's not too boring to read. =]**_

**Chapter 2: Minor Threat**

With their vampire problem temporarily taken care of, Draco and Ron had retreated deeper into the manor in order to find a more permanent solution. They traversed the house in the same way they had navigated the garden – cautiously – since neither of them could remember the spell to check if they were alone. The walls of the foyer had been black with smoke-damage and ash was scattered all over the floor indicating there had been a fire there recently and made the house look condemned at a first glance. In contrast, the kitchen, in which they were now sitting, had the opposite appearance: it looked brand new.

Ron looked around in awe at the sheer size of the room and couldn't help but make comparisons to the tiny box kitchen of his own home. Thinking of home brought thoughts of his family – they probably expected him dead what with so many wizards already having been killed in the name of "justice".

They sat in silence on the floor: Ron wound his wand through his fingers mindlessly while Draco inspected every detail of the vampire section of the one book they'd managed to salvage. It was during this time that Ron noticed something spectacular. From his position on the floor, the red-head could see the soot covered walls in the hallway clean and repair themselves. His staring must have distracted Draco as the other boy looked up and followed his eye line. He watched for a moment, got bored and buried his nose in the book again, sighing. Must be another enchantment, Ron figured.

"So you figured anything out yet?" Ron asked after having sat relatively patiently waiting on results.

"No," was Draco's bemused reply.

"Not very useful, then, are you?"

"How about you do the research then and I'll sit around doing nothing."

Ron's ears turned red. "I'm not doing _nothing;_I'm on guard."

"You're on your fat arse," Draco retorted under his breath and returned his focus to the sentence he'd just read. "I know why she can't get in."

"Hm?"

"The vampire," Draco reiterated. "I know why she can't get past the door."

"Enlighten me," Ron said sarcastically lay back on the floor, seeming uninterested in what Draco felt was so important.

"Would you sit up and pay attention," Draco snapped, "unless you actually want to die?"

"Look, Malfoy," Ron replied, narrowing his eyes, "I don't really care about _why_ she can't get in as long as she _can't_. Now if you know a way of getting rid of her, please, go on."

Draco looked furious but stopped talking nonetheless: if the weasel didn't care, he'd just have to suffer the consequences. To be fair, he had a point: the knowledge was pretty useless since it meant that yes – whilst they were in the manor, they were safe from vampires, they were also, however, trapped and an easy target for anything else! Though, at least it was only a vampire that was an immediate issue – _the presence of the owner of a place of residence within the afore mentioned place of residence will protect all permanent and temporary residents from the children of the night whilst remaining in the place of residence._

The book proved useful in the end – Draco had managed to discover that vampires are, contrary to popular culture, unaffected by garlic and crucifixes but are indeed weakened by sunlight. The only way to kill a vampire is a wooden stake through the heart and few spells are effective due to the Vampire's natural defensive abilities. However useful this knowledge was, without any useful spells, there was nothing more they could do about their problem.

"That's it!" Draco cried.

"What?" Ron replied grumpily, looking at the blond across the room.

"Give me your wand."

"No."

"Oh come on, I'll give it back," Draco pleaded. "Do you want to know what else is here or not?"

To this, Ron tossed his wand across the room to Draco who fumbled and dropped it onto the black tiles before him. He flushed and went red in the cheeks for a moment before picking up the wand and clearing his throat. He stood up and stealthily made his way back to the entrance of his the house with Ron following in his shadow.

"**Homenum Revelio,**" he said and nothing happened. "We're alone," he turned to the door, "in the house, at least. Come on, I'm tired, let's get some sleep." He dropped his caution and began walking up the stairs to his bedroom. He reached the small landing before turning round to see Ron still standing by the door. "You're not tired?"

"I was thinking I should maybe keep guard in case Vampirella manages to find a way in..."

Draco smirked – Ron should have listened earlier: there was no chance of that happening whilst Draco was in the house. "Suit yourself," he replied and tossed the wand to Ron who managed to catch it in one hand.

Ron remained by the door and watched Draco slink away into the upper floor of the manor, noticing how every step seemed planned like choreography. He thought about the way he, himself walked – probably nowhere near as gracefully, he was much more clumsy and knocked things over a lot. He didn't understand why he was even making the comparison – he was probably just tired.

He decided. whilst he was alone, to get to know his surroundings a little better and casually strolled around this floor of the house – there was nothing out of the ordinary: kitchen, dining room, lounge, bathrooms, a drawing room, etc. He then stumbled across the library. It was a relatively small, square room in which every wall was lined with book upon book as far as he could see. It was then that the idea came to him.

"**Accio Spellbook**," he said and immediately had to duck as around 30 massive volumes flew from their shelves at him. "Okay, Ron, not your brightest moment," he said to himself as he began to gather and stack the texts outside the library door. He then spent the next hour reading through every protection spell he could find: many of them were extremely complicated and he knew only the likes of Hermione would be able to perform them successfully but he did manage to find one that required no lavish gestures or forced emotions but merely simple words that would enhance any protection already on the location – hopefully that would include whatever was already keeping the vampire out of the house.

He wandered back to the entrance and opened the door to see the skeletal figure standing in the garden, baring her pointed teeth and raising her claws so they gleamed in the moonlight. It was a frightening thought that he was so close to such a horrific being.

"**Salvio Hexia**," he said softly. For a moment nothing happened – he assumed that it would only strengthen the barrier at the point of entry but, to his surprise, after a few seconds, the undead bitch was sent flying through the air and out of the grounds. Ron's mouth fell open: he had made that happen. He had performed a protection spell perfectly! Satisfied, he decided to take up Draco's offer and headed upstairs to turn in for the night.

Draco lay awake on the jade-green carpet of his bedroom floor, sleeping in his bed didn't feel right any more – it felt too _safe_ and, right now, feeling safe was simply foolish so in the floor he lay. Why he was still awake, however, was another matter completely – he was waiting on Ron. He just didn't feel comfortable alone with everything going on and Ron had been there through it all so far so it was only natural for him to wait! He felt hot all of a sudden and had the urge to bury his face in the quilt he'd stripped from the four poster behind him. Was he becoming reliant on the Weasel? He pushed the thought from his head as it suddenly occurred to him that the red-head had no real reason to stay – the first chance he got, he'd probably be off, leaving Draco alone and defenceless. Why had he been stupid enough to lose his wand. He forced himself to his feet and checked the window – no sight of the vampire.

He kicked the wardrobe in a sudden outburst of frustration at their whole situation, causing the door to swing open slightly, revealing a large bottle of copper-coloured liquid. He reached in and withdrew it carefully.

"_Firewhiskey?" _he said, rolling the bottle in his hands to read the label. His heart was racing and he was shaking. Not really thinking about it, he unscrewed the cap and took a large swig to calm himself down, letting it scorch a pathway down through his body. His face screwed up at the taste of it but he forced down a few more gulps before re-fitting the cap. It wasn't long before he began to feel the effects of the alcohol kicking in. He was doubly terrified as before but had the urge to laugh at the same time.

He re-took his place on the floor and lay back, folding his arms behind his head. Within half an hour, Ron came through the bedroom door into the dark room, stopping after closing the door behind him to let his eyes adjust to the change in light. He quickly spotted Draco lying on the floor and suddenly felt extremely awkward, where should he place himself? Draco sat up as soon as he realised Ron was in the room and beckoned him over to sit with him, patting the floor gingerly.

When Ron took his place, crossing his legs, in front of the blond boy, Draco hiccuped and offered the bottle to him with a disturbingly un-Draco-like grin. He shrugged and took it with a soft "thanks" before swallowing a large volume of the liquid...

"Use your inner eyee to see the future," Draco droned, prancing around the room, in his best Professor Trelawney impression to much laughter from the red head on the floor. "Whatever happened to the old crow anyway?"

"Rogue dementor," Ron replied, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tried to recall the memory. Realising he'd killed the atmosphere, Ron sat up and looked at Draco who had stopped moving now and simply stood still, his shoulders drooping slightly, perhaps also just remembering how hopeless their situation seemed. For now, at least, they were safe so it was only right that they should let off a little steam while they could. "So, what's the plan, then?"

Draco slumped down and lay next to Ron as he thought of an answer. With his arms behind his head and his eyes closed he looked so comfortable; felt so comfortable.

"Er..." he began, "we could send word to someone and tell them where we are? In the morning though." Ron nodded in response as Draco stood and made to switch off the light which had been turned on at some point when they were drinking and neither boy could remember which of them had done it. Once the light was off, Draco turned to see Ron under the quilt he'd set out on the floor when he'd first come up to bed. He took his shirt off and flung it next to where Ron's lay and piled his trousers in the same fashion before diving under the sheet with the red-head.

Now that they had stopped talking and were trying to sleep, the sounds of the war with the underworlders was evident: loud but distant, perhaps, Draco thought, their situation was growing increasingly dire as the days went on...

"Hey Weaselrey," Draco began.

"It's Weasley."

"Whatever," Draco paused. "Do you think we'll make it out of this, alive?"

Ron didn't respond right away but shifted uncomfortably and turned to face the blond boy beside him. The room was spinning slightly from the whiskey and he could just make out Draco's pale features. He didn't answer with words but took the boy's hand in his own and gave it a tight squeeze and then they fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3: Bad Dogs

**Chapter 3: Bad Dogs**

Ron awoke early that morning, he was so close to Draco that he could feel the blond's every heavy, sleeping breath after breath. His eyes widened slightly as he rolled away and got to his feet. Being December, it was still dark outside despite being around 7am so, when he looked out the window, everything was grey: the gardens of Malfoy Manor and beyond. There was smoke billowing from somewhere in the distance so he assumed that was where he'd find the site of the battle they'd heard during the night, making him wonder if any more wizards had been lost to this pointless war.

Draco was murmuring wordlessly in his sleep and Ron did not want to risk waking him for, if his own headache was a good enough gauge, the other boy would not be in such a good mood. He glanced at the empty bottle of firewhisky on the floor with a slight pang of regret. Slowly, he pulled on the clothes he'd left beside their make-shift bed on the floor as silently as he could, leaving his shoes in a heap under its silver frame, wishing he had a change of clothing. Only now, in the morning, did he wonder why neither of them had slept on the massive bed but he figured it would probably just be another of Draco's incomprehensible quirks.

He tiptoed to the door just in time for Draco to stir and yawn himself back to life. He sat up, rubbing his eyes before glancing over to Ron and gave him a curt nod before groaning and stumbling to his wardrobe leaving the red-head to watch in envy as he remember that this was where Draco lived – obviously he'd have clean clothes. He stood by the door waiting as Draco set the clothes he planned to wear onto his bed.

"Well," Draco began, "are you planning to watch?"

Ron flushed a deep pink before leaving the room and closing the door behind him with a sharp click only for it to re-open within seconds, Draco reappearing with a fluffy, white towel.

"On second thought," he said in passing, "I'm going to take a shower." He paused, turning to Ron. "Come on, bring your wand. I don't fancy being naked _and _defenceless if we're attacked by merlin-knows-what."

He lead the way to the bathroom which Ron – as usual – was amazed by. The huge square room had the biggest bath he had ever seen in one corner and a massive walk-in shower in the other. Draco quickly turned on the hot water, removed his underwear (after instructing Ron to look away) and stepped under the hot spray of water. The glass of the shower had fogged up in no time at all, leaving Draco's image a featureless blur against the white tiles – not that Ron caught himself glancing. No, he didn't glance but he _did_ have to hold in his laughter at Draco's mindless humming to himself – some out-of-date song by the Weird Sisters. Sniggering to himself, Ron remembered the books he'd looked out the previous night and wondered if Draco would find them any more useful than he, after all the blond _was_ painfully better with spells than Ron - he'd have to remember to tell the blond about them at some point.

After a shockingly lengthy time under the water, the glass door of the shower slid open and Draco's head poked out as he hid the rest of his body within the shower and found Ron's gaze. Ron understood immediately and handed Draco the towel before turning away again. Ron felt tiny splashes of water against the back of his neck as Draco shook his dripping hair and wrapped the towel around his waist. Ron couldn't help but notice the smell of strawberries coming from the boy behind him – a surprising scent he hadn't expected to find in the Malfoy household as he'd been so sure they'd be all about serpent venom and basilisk sweat.

He suddenly realised that the shower was still running and found the Draco was staring at him. Standing with his arms folded across his bare chest, he looked uncomfortable. When Ron caught his eye, he flicked his eyes towards the running water in a wordless indication. Ron sighed in thanks before stripping off his clothes thoughtlessly causing Draco to blush red. He stood in his boxers in front of the blond before remembering to hand over the wand which Draco quickly took and moved himself to the bathroom door.

"I'll, er," he stuttered slightly, "I'll wait in my bedroom."

Ron shrugged before removing the last of his clothing and stood beneath the stream of hot water.

Draco sat on the edge of his bed absent mindedly rolling the wand around in his fingers. He'd dressed hastily and his hair was still wet and he was suffering from an uncomfortable pulsing in his head. At least he felt clean again for the first time since they'd been evacuated from Hogwarts and, for the first time, he thought of what it would have been like had he successfully made it to the evacuation point. He'd be safe and warm and, best of all, he wouldn't be _here. _His eyes explored the dark bedroom that had housed him his entire life and being back after so long – it felt like he was in another world. He was so lost he didn't even feel the tear rolling down his cheek...

In the bathroom, Ron was turning off the water and looking for a towel, remembering that Draco had only brought one and that one was currently with the other boy. He cussed under his breath as he stood naked in the centre of the room, water droplets making his tanned body shiver. He glanced at his clothes on the floor considering just putting them on and letting them get damp from his wet skin. He then remembered he had no other clothes to wear and changed his mind. He leaned out of the door and called on Draco.

"Oi, Malfoy," he yelled down the hall. "Malfoy, you got a towel?"

Sighing he stepped into his underwear and gathered the rest of his clothes in his arms and made his way down the corridor to Draco's bedroom to find it empty. The towel Draco had used was in a heap on the floor. Seeing no other alternative, Ron picked it up and dried himself off with it seeing Draco's smirk in his head – a Weasley relying on Malfoy cast-offs. Ron was annoyed – he'd waited on Draco but as soon as it was him, Draco was gone. He looked on the bed and, folded neatly was a pile of clothes with a scribbled note set atop them:

"_Weasley, the biggest clothes I own. Find me in the library."_

Ron was grateful but he made a mental note not to show it – no doubt the ferret would use it against him at some point. He re-read the note and his eyes focused on the word "_biggest". _He wasn't much taller than Draco so he took this as the blond's way of being antagonistic to balance out his act of kindness – I would have done the same, he told himself...

It was beyond the stage where it should be light outside by now, Ron noted when he reached the library, but the skies were grey as ever. Draco was sat, walled in, at the desk, by several volumes which were open at seemingly random pages. Draco, looked nothing short of ready to burst – Ron could practically feel the boy's frustration bouncing off the walls of the room at him.

Not having heard Ron's appearance, Draco pointed Ron's wand at its master when the red-head spoke. Relief was visible on Draco's face as he shakily lowered the weapon.

"Thanks," Ron said quietly as he made his way to stand behind Draco, leaning over his shoulder to see what he was researching.

"You smell nice," Draco said in reply. His eyes widened with shock – he had not meant to say that.

"What?" Ron asked, blushing, his voice hitching.

"I mean," Draco corrected himself, "thanks for what?"

"R-right," Ron stuttered, "the -uh- the clothes."

The awkward tension set in and the room fell silent making both boys uncomfortable.

"Look," Draco started, "Weasley-"

But he did not finish his sentence as a resounding crack screeched through the house, followed by a low, grunting conversation coming from the foyer. The boys looked at each other – pale and wide-eyed; each feeling the familiar pounding of their heart in their chests.

Not saying anything, Draco signalled for Ron to stay quiet and remain behind him as they crept along the hall to assess their situation. From crouched positions by the staircase they saw that the intruders appeared to be wizards speaking in hushed tones. They were unable to pick out what they were saying, however – only a few stray words here or there: "..._smell"; "...two..."; "...rayback."_

Draco heard Ron gasp behind him as they both managed to work out who the trespassers were. From Draco's understanding, _"rayback" _was more likely to be _"Greyback" _as in Fenrir _Greyback; _as in the most famous werewolf in Britain. They had eiether become extremely lucky in the last few moments or extremely _un_lucky for neither could recall whose side the werewolves were on - being half wizardmeant they could be on either side.

Draco turned to look at Ron who was white as a sheet and shaking – a werewolf had torn up his brother had it not? He didn't understand why he was so cut up about it, Bill had survived _and _retained his..._humanity. _It occurred suddenly to Draco that, of course, the wolves were on the other side – they'd been ostracised by the wizarding world for centuries to the point of not even being considered human.

"_Shit," _Draco cussed as he turned round, falling backwards and landing in a heap on top of Ron as his face had been inches from someone's leather clad knees.

"**Petrificus Totalus," **Draco screamed – petrifying the thug before them. "RUN!"

He and Ron scrambled together and found themselves bursting through the entire ground floor with spells flying in all directions overhead as the three remaining brutes pursued them. Draco was a step immediately behind Ron who was still unarmed as they bolted through the kitchen.

"The garden!" Draco yelled, directing Ron whilst casting stunning spells over his shoulder at their pursuers. "Into the garden!"

It was still cold and sunless outside when they stumbled through the back door into the grounds of the Manor. When they were out in the open, Draco swung around to face their opponents. He'd counted three whilst being chased so he knew what to expect. Within seconds, they had begun to pour out through the door like poison draining from a basilisk. He quickly disarmed the first whose wand flew through the air and landed with a dull thud in the grass somewhere as he proceeded to petrify the now unarmed thug.

From the lack of wands on the other two charging towards him, Draco assumed they had been muggles before the change – one of his stunning spells had connected with the smaller of the two's face whilst every spell he cast seemed to be evaded by the larger.

He may have been big but he was certainly no easy target and he was fast – within seconds he was so close to Draco that he could have easily tasted his heavy breaths. Draco's life flashed before his eyes as the werewolf leapt at him baring unnaturally sharp teeth with a deafening roar.

"**Stupefy!**" came Ron's voice from his left and a red burst of light threw the huge beast of a man to the ground just before he was about to connect with Draco. He had obviously found the disarmed wand as Draco had been fighting.

"**Petrificus Totalus**," Ron said twice, targeting each of the remaining stunned men, causing them to snap solid as a board. He looked round to see Draco on the ground three shades paler than usual, his chest rising and falling frantically. "Get up Dra- Malfoy, you're alright."

Draco shook himself back to reality and pushed himself to his feet, glancing at the three petrified bodies that were littering his lawn. He was slowly regaining his colour and immediately turned to Ron.

"Thanks," Draco said quietly. "Ron."

Ron felt oddly satisfied that Draco had used his first name after having accidentally let an "almost Draco" slip.

"So what are we going to do?" Ron asked. "We can't stay here now."

"Yes we bloody-well can," Draco replied angrily. "They'll leave – c'mon, we don't have much time before they unfreeze." 

He quickly marched over to the closest of their rivals before turning back to Ron.

"Do you know how to perform a memory-modification charm?" he asked expectantly, heaving a sigh as Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Well you'll need to learn – we don't have enough time for me to do them all – what is it Weasley!"

Ron was shaking and looking over Draco's shoulder. Frost had begun to form spontaneously on the grass underfoot and the air was damp with misery. "De-de-" was all he could manage for the flock of around forty dementors was suddenly upon them, circling and eerie as ever.

"Why would dementors be attacking us?" Draco asked, exasperated. "They're on our side are they not?"

Draco's question was answered as the dementors descended, instead, on the werewolves – giving the boys ample opportunity to run around to the front of the house and re-enter safely, knowing that their immediate problem was being dealt with.

In the foyer, both boys slid to the floor with their back against the wood of the front door. Ron started laughing, not really knowing why but he was laughing and laughing hard. Soon Draco was laughing too and they were literally rolling on the floor, clutching their sides. Neither had ever seen the other laugh before and it was an odd sensation to be experiencing it now. They only managed to pull themselves together when the cracking, unfreezing sound of the frozen werewolf two feet from where they sat resounded through the room.

Eyes wide and hair on end, both boys rose to their feet as the groggy werewolf staggered to a standing position and turned to face them. There was more shock on his face than anything else as he turned to find all of his comrades gone.

"They're on a date with the dementors," Draco sneered smugly, flicking his wand his general direction.

"Stay away," Ron added, "and we'll make sure you get away from them alive."

"Please," the man whimpered, "I just want to go home."

"Do you think we can trust him?" Draco asked Ron nervously who had already lowered his stolen wand.

"Give us your word that you'll keep away," Ron continued, "and make sure none of your friends bother us."

"I, Ignacius Salivatoré, give you my word," he replied almost instantly, "and all my friends have just met a fate worse than death."

"That's good enough for me," Ron replied turning to Draco who looked reluctant but opened the door anyway to find the garden full of dementors ghastly swaying in the breeze-less air. "We'll clear a path for you to get by but you're on your own after that."

"You'd have been eaten alive in Slytherin," Draco mused in an under-tone to Ron. He aimed his wand once more Ignacius. "Don't make me regret this."

Both boys aimed their wands outside and, in unison cast patronus charms into the yard and both boys were slightly embarrassed by the shapes that were hurtling down the path and repelling al the nearby dementors for neither patronus was as fierce and masculine as they'd wanted but they got the job done.

"Now!" Ron shouted and Ignacius ran.

"You've made a powerful ally tonight, boys," he screamed as he charged down the path and morphed into wolf-form in mid-leap – despite the absence of a full moon – and disappeared into the night, leaving both teenagers to watch in amazement.

Closing the door on the remaining dementors, Draco proceeded to take Ron's arm and steerhim towards the library causing him to groan.

"No more books," Ron cried.

"Fine," Draco retorted, "let's not put up any protection and just be attacked every night. _That's _a great plan."

"F-" Ron started.

"Yeah, I know, _'fuck you, ferret'."_


	4. Chapter 4: The Elf's Mission

_**Not updated in a while. I guess I forgot how much I enjoy this story. Time to continue, I think – even if only for my own personal amusement. **_

**Chapter 4: The Elf's Mission **

Draco was spending more and more time in the library as the days went on. The only protection spells he'd been able to find had proven too complicated to cast on top of the manor's already intricately laced (and completely unnecessary in Ron's opinion) enchantments. Time and time again, the red head had tried to talk Draco round to understanding that a house – sorry, _estate_ – fitted with automatic-structural-repair charms was probably already fitted with every protection spell invented. He preached to no avail however and he soon came to fully appreciate that, as the noise of war began to deafen them at night, Malfoy was simply scared...and if endlessly searching for that which didn't exist comforted the boy, Ron was not going to be the one to stop him.

"Weasley!" Draco called from the desk in the library – his new favourite position. "Come, quick, _Weasley_!"

Ron groaned as he forced himself to sit up on the sofa and stretched his arms above his head, not in any way harried by Draco's urgency. No doubt he'd just found another dead-end enchantment that would just fizzle then crumple under the sheer weight of the magic already wedged into every nook and cranny of their surroundings. He was quick to show the white-blond boy just how eager he was to know whatever he had to say with his widest and most exaggerated yawn.

"Malfoy?" Ron said gruffly, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Let me guess: you found a spell to _actually _colour our spines yellow..."

"What?" Draco sneered in response. "If you would rather run out there brandishing that over-sized twig of yours, be my guest...Just try not to leave your severed head on my doorstep..."

Ron rolled his eyes in response and was forced to admit to himself that Draco was right. He'd be hopeless out there without back up and – even with their pooled knowledge of magic – he and Draco had struggled to make it this far alive. He wasn't prepared to throw away all that over a little impatience. He then noticed that Draco had given up looking for spells since the book in front of his nose was the _Folio Bruti_ they'd acquired from a dead witch on their way to the manor.

"You've been looking up monsters?" Ron asked. "Are you telling me that we're actually a step _ahead_ of the impending assault on our lives this time?"

"Very funny," Draco retorted with what appeared like an almost genuine smirk as he turned the book around on the desk and pushed it towards his partner. "Take a look at this."

Ron picked up the heavy tome – remembering his shock that it weighed so much when they'd initially found it considering a large proportion of its pages were absent. He looked at the page, perplexed.

"What do house-elfs have to do with our situation?" he asked, confused. "You expect us to be _obeyed_ to death in the near future?"

"I don't think we'll be _attacked_ by elves, Weasley," Draco's irritated tone snapped. "Actually _read_ it before you start asking stupid questions."

"Sorry, _Professor,"_ Ron sniggered. "I still don't see what's relevant."

"Well, it says that dismissed house-elves still hear their former masters' summons – they just have the choice to ignore them, right?"

Ron looked dumbfounded.

"I still don't get where this is going, Malfoy."

"_Dobby_?"

"What about him?"

Ron's question caused Draco much distress as he slapped a palm to his forehead. There really wasn't much initiative needed to understand what Draco was implying.

"He's _my _old house-elf!"

"You think he'll come?" Ron laughed. "That little guy will be in no hurry to be _here_. Your family made his life miserable."

"Maybe not as miserable as you would assume," Draco snapped coldly, saying no more and leaving Ron to ponder what he meant. "But if you think it's really that hopeless then we needn't bother trying, do we?"

"No," Ron replied, looking at his shoes. "I'm sorry Draco, you're right. I don't know what use we'd have of a manservant but I won't say no to another pair of eyes. And, by the way, did you find out anything about our furry new_ ally _in that book?"

"You've read the werewolf chapter a thousand times, Ron," Draco replied, "you know as much as I do that it's no help...it's all lunar cycles and sedatives – nothing about spontaneous...uh..._wolfing_."

"Wow, Draco," Ron mused, "'wolfing'. You're even starting to sound like me..."

Draco flushed an uncharacteristic shade of pink before standing up, lifting another book and thrusting it into Ron's chest with as much force as he dared use before storming silently to the door.

"I'm going to keep watch from upstairs for a while. Be useful."

Ron was furious for a moment at his companion's outburst but realised that it reminded him of the fights he so often had with Hermione he'd come to long for. It was going to be one of _those _days, he figured. Every so often he found himself thinking of Harry and Hermione – wondering if they were still alive – wishing only that they would find some way of contacting him. With Hermione's brains and Harry's inexplicable skill, there was no way that they were unable to survive - but knowing them as well as he did, he knew they were out there searching for him and, if sure of nothing else, he was sure that two teenage wizards would not last long in a full-fledged war where they were the primary target...

Meanwhile, Draco had snuck away from the pre-designated vantage point in the north wing to catch up on some sleep while he knew that Ron was still awake downstairs. They had spent most of the passing weeks on the move so settling in one place – even his family home – had begun to set him on edge. They'd already experienced an attack on their "safe"-zone and it had only continued his desire to leave especially since the house contained a few ghosts of Draco's past that were for the eyes of no-one – particularly a Weasley.

Upon entering his bedroom he wasted no time in crawling under the bed sheets he once again felt comfortable to sleep in. However, sleep itself managed to evade him. He'd grown used to sleeping with another body nearby – there was no way he was going to be able to rest. He picked up the wand he'd left on the bedside cabinet. It was the one they'd acquired from one of the werewolves and – whilst it would never replace the wand he'd lost at the coast, before arriving at the mansion, he felt its loyalties already starting to turn to him as the spells he casted with grew more effective with each passing day. He had no doubt his own wand would be reeling at him – even from its ocean grave.

_He was struggling to his feet in the midst of a raging storm. One minute he had been clutching the roll of parchment which had been turned into a portkey at the onset of the siege on Hogwarts. The next minute, a deafening crack resounded in his ear and he found himself falling rapidly and landing with a light thump on the thoroughly saturated sand. The wind buffeted him on every direction as he scrambled to a standing position, shielding his eyes from the stray grains of sand being flung around by the weather; the rain fell horizontally, drenching him in minutes._

_Without another thought he'd turned in pursuit of shelter to find the land was fairly sealed off by high cliffs behind him and water in front of him. There was no chance of climbing up the cliff side with the rock coated in rain water – there would be no grip – and the water sloshed violently before him, ruling out his only other option of escape. He'd had nowhere to go and was beginning to panic –he tried summoning his broom before remembering it was in his sealed trunk in the dungeons of Hogwarts so his spell had no effect. _

_Shivering, with tears freezing to his cheeks he gave up and resigned himself to an icy end. That was until the figure behind him took him by the shoulders and steered him to a small crack in the side of the cliff that a tanned, freckly arm was pointing towards. Not bothering to look at who was taking lead of him, he allowed himself to be directed to the dry inside of a surprisingly large cave. Only when they were both away from the weather's cruel intentions, did they have time to see who they were sharing the same space with. Instinctively, Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley drew their wands and aimed relentlessly at each other._

"_Malfoy?" Ron had said in disbelief. "Someone must really hate me..."_

"_What's the matter Weasley?" Draco had replied, glancing around at the dark, damp space they were now occupying. "Not used to having guests over?"_

_Ron's ears had gone his signature scarlet as he'd launched himself at Draco's slender form. They rolled around on the cave floor, struggling against the other's weight to gain control of the fight until a particularly loud crash of thunder threw them apart. There was just enough space in their cave to stand about three metres away from each other and they both silently agreed to keep this distance and ignore each other until the harsh conditions dissipated outside and they were able to leave. Unfortunately for them, it seemed that the weather had no intentions of calming down and they were forced into each other's company indefinitely._

_It was Draco who first spoke after the incident some 4 hours later – they'd taken it in turns, in this time, to pace the entire short length of the cave every so often in sporadic bursts of energy as if expecting it to sprout a secret exit into civilisation between each hopeless venture._

"_Well," Draco said, "what happened to you?"_

"_Fell off the portkey," Ron replied after several minutes of what Draco suspected to be an internal debate on whether or not to answer his question. _

"_Oh how proud must Potter be," Draco mocked. "Or perhaps out-staged is the better word?"_

"_And what's that supposed to mean?" _

"_I'm just commenting," Draco mused, "on how the chosen wonder, our holy saviour, must be teeming with jealousy at not having thought of such a feat for himself. I'm sure he's beside himself at the thought of someone else having more sympathy than the great Pott-"_

"_Shut your mouth, you slimy git," Ron snapped viciously – perhaps tempted to throw himself at the other boy again but choosing instead to turn away from him and lie, facing the dark wall._

_Draco sighed in frustration and did the same and was surprised to find his eyelids drooping and was soon experiencing the sensation of a descending fog around his mind lulling him to sleep. His dreams were so vivid and realistic that he even felt the pinch he gave himself in them. There was a voice. A sweet song was floating through the air and filling him from the inside out. It was so present he could even see the sound it made as it vibrated off the walls around him leaving a soft purple aura trailing behind each syllable. _

_He was rising, floating, almost, despite feeling his feet on the ground. Ron was beside him with a stupid grin tugging at the corners of his mouth – a stupid grin he was suddenly aware he was also wearing. He tried to force himself to stop but he just felt so good that he conceded, discovering that he had only the desire to find the voice that was singing to his soul. _

_His body was leaving the cave and it felt the icy rain sizzle as it came into contact with his hot skin – this dream felt too real. Ron glided silently, mere steps ahead of him. Was he following the same voice? Was he even hearing the same voice? What a strange dream he was having. As he treaded delicately towards the ocean there was a nagging thought in his mind. It was like a jumbled sentence he had to rearrange in his head – a memory even. The puzzle of a sentence added the sound of familiar muttering to the beautiful voice igniting his very being - but he tried to push it away and followed the voice till his feet were in the cold water. _

_He was shocked when he looked down to see he had stripped off all of his clothing - save his underwear – without realising it and saw, in front of him that Ron had done the same. The red-head was much further in the water than he was – it was only up to his knees whereas Ron was already waist-deep. _

_The voice was so loud now that it threatened to deafen him but he wouldn't stop moving – he could listen to this sound until his ears bled. That was, until he saw the beautiful, golden-haired figures on the rocks that were singing and suddenly the muttering in his head was clear as crystal. It was his own, rational voice and he was suddenly aware that he was, in fact, not asleep as he heard his own voice repeat aloud what the muttering had been saying the whole journey to the waters._

"_KELPIES!"_

_He felt the fog in his mind begin to clear and watched the fantastical women in the water morph into twisted creatures with webbed fingers and rows upon rows of bared fangs snapping at the air in his direction. Their skin was a dull grey and was laced with dark blue veins that spiralled up their whole bodies. As the illusion lifted, the song that has set his emotions ablaze only moments ago became nails on a chalkboard, screeching and turning his blood cold. He turned and ran to the shore but felt his body lag as if he were running through jelly. He scooped up as many items of his clothing as he could carry and continued his lead-weighted sprint to the cliff side, finding that the further away he got, the easier it was to resist the thrall that was slowly wearing off. _

_He was moments from the foot of the cliff when he glanced over his shoulder to see Ron still wading happily into the now unmoving waters. He wasn't sure what came over him but he felt obliged to do something – to repay the Weasley boy for pointing him to shelter and before he knew it, he'd dropped his clothes to the sand and was rummaging through his trouser pockets for his wand. _

_He couldn't recall any useful spells from his Defence Against the Dark Arts training – always having figured he was destined to be restricted to the Dark Arts themselves but he was determined to save his only link with the living world or die trying. He was running, in no time, back to the dark waters, kicking himself all the while._

_He found that no matter how much closer he grew to the creatures, their thrall had no effect on him now, whatsoever so he covered the distance in no time at all. The feeling of triumph did not last long however as he was now metres away from some fairly deadly looking beasts with no plan of action. A glance to Ron proved that he had no hope of getting through to the boy who still approached the beasts with no reproach. That left only one choice –_

"_**Stupefy," **__he screeched and watched as the red bolt flung the creature nearest to Ron into the water, leaving the red-head standing baffled, perhaps the song had stopped? "Oi, Weasley! Snap out of it you oaf-"_

_Draco was cut off by a resounding screech as kelpies begun diving at him from all directions snapping their fangs at his bare flesh. His heart pounding in his ears, he desperately looked to Ron for help but the boy was lost to the illusion. How was he supposed to lift it? He knew plenty of spells but none that could alter the mind...well, except two: one that made you forget things and another that was forbidden. He had no better plan and he was almost certain it wouldn't work but what else was he supposed to do?_

_He ducked out of the way of another lunge at his body and pointed his wand at Ron._

"_**Imperio," **__he almost whispered. SEE WHAT I SEE, he thought over and over to himself. SEE WHAT I SEE._

_For a moment, there was no response and Draco failed to dodge an attack from behind him and felt the searing pain as teeth ripped into his shoulder – FUCKING HELP ME WEASLEY. The pain was short-lived, however, as Ron's fist collided with the beast's throat, forcing it to release Draco and within moments, Ron was dragging him out of the water to safety. _

_They stopped briefly whilst Ron swept up what he dared to spend time lifting – leaving behind the rest of his clothes – and they ran to the cliffs. Draco collected what he could from the pile he'd left at the foot of the cliff and they both clambered into trousers and threw robes over their shoulders and, as soon as the rain returned, clambered up the sharp rocks..._

_In such a hurry they were, that Draco did not even realise he was without his wand and that it lay at the depths of the black water with those foul creatures. When they stopped running, several miles north of the coast, the boys tried summoning it but – like Draco's broom – the wand was trapped... _

Draco snapped out of the memory and suddenly felt foolish for his tantrum. He and Ron had really come a long way and he'd already proven himself to be an ally – did they really have time to fight amongst each other when there were so many out there with that goal already? He shook his head and clambered out of the king-size bed and padded out into the hall. He remembered, suddenly, the folio bruti and Dobby. If it wasn't going to work, he didn't want it to not work in front of Ron so he filled his lungs with air and called out the house-elf's name.

It took seconds for the snap, the puff of smoke and the adrenalin to flood Draco's body. A mass of blood stained rags writhed around the floor of the marble corridor.

"_Wheezey," _the little body cried out, "message for...the _Wheezey."_

Draco didn't even pause to think, he quickly scooped the little body up into his arms and started running, full pelt down the stairs.

"Ron!" he yelled frantically. "RON!"

They met half way between the foyer and the kitchen and it took no time at all to understand the situation.

"Dobby!" Ron half-shrieked as Draco set the small form down whilst falling to his knees beside him.

Ron stood there, over them, his mouth agape in shock. The little figure with its hand clamped tightly around one of Draco's fingers as it struggled to breathe.

"Master Draco," the elf coughed with an attempt at a smile. "It's good to see you."

Draco managed a choked-up laugh as tears began to stream down his face. The elf was coughing blood and still tried to make pleasantries.

"The _Wheezey," _Dobby wheezed. "Leaky" - the elf spluttered - "Cauldron."

**A/N: I hated it when Dobby died once, and here I am killing him again. Darn. Let me know what you think so far. I keep getting carried away with the action scenes and forget this is meant to be a romance. Blah. Will get there eventually, I promise. 3 **


	5. Chapter 5: Thunder

**It's been some time since we've visited this story. I have free time now...and I just can't stay away from this pairing right now xD. Kinda long chapter, this one, but it's worth it, I hope.  
>~Inu <strong>

**Chapter 5: Thunder **

Ron grew more agitated as the time began to pass. Draco had spent every waking moment fussing over Dobby since his dramatic arrival: changing his dressings, applying new medications and Ron was convinced he even heard him singing to the elf once or twice. Even during the night, he woke to the click of the bedroom door as nurse Malfoy checked on his patient every twenty minutes without fail. It had been endearing to see the softer side of Draco and for a while there was a strong promise of Dobby's recovery and, with it, perhaps a link to Harry or Hermione...

However, now that the elf was dead and buried, Ron could take the confinement of Malfoy Manor no longer and was itching to get back on the move; whilst Draco was simply allowing himself to drown in lethargy. Dobby had been a ray of hope – not to mention a friend to them both at some point – and now he was gone and they would never know what his message had meant. Spirits in the house were low.

Through the small gap he'd pulled in the thick velvet curtains in the lounge, Ron watched the rain hammer the window relentlessly. It came down on the glass like rounds firing from a machine gun so hard that it was impossible to even make out anything outside. Draco was draped across the sofa behind him with his head buried in the fold of his arm – his new favourite pose – as he listened to constant pattering that rattled throughout the quiet house.

"There was nothing you could have done," Ron said, not taking his eyes away from the window.

Draco sighed to himself, unwilling to look at anything.

"And how would _you_ know, Weasley?" he spat, his voice wavering with each word. "You don't know anything."

Ron turned to face Draco, with a look that would scare a boggart but couldn't bring himself to retaliate. This had been a loss for them _both_. Of course Draco would be miserable – he had pulled out all the stops to keep Dobby alive and for what?

"Look, Draco," Ron said, making sure to soften his tone before speaking, " I –"

"No," Draco cut him off and sat up, "I'm sorry Ron, it's not your fault. I just..."

"I know."

And they sat in silence, Draco with his gaze to the floor; Ron's concerned gaze falling on Draco. Perhaps leaving with their emotions running so high would be a bad idea after all, Ron decided and fell onto the couch beside his companion causing him to raise his eyes momentarily before watching the floor again.

"Do you think we'll live through this, Weasley?" Draco asked as he lay back down, his legs draped across Ron's lap.

Ron shifted uncomfortably at first but then supposed they could both use the support of a friend right now and gently placed the palms of his hands on Draco's jeans. He considered the question he'd been posed for a moment and began subconsciously stroking the blonde boy's legs.

"Well," he suggested, "we've done fine so far."

Draco turned so that he was on his back and propped himself up on his elbows to look at the redhead. He opened his mouth to reply but couldn't seem to find the words - which was a scary thought since Malfoys had an answer for everything...Maybe he wasn't a Malfoy any more; his father certainly wouldn't think so, had he been alive, what with all this consorting with blood traitors like the Weasleys. He found Ron's eyes after a few moments of waiting and he got his answer: Ron still had the fire in his eyes – he wasn't ready to give up just yet...

So it was sorted. Draco wasn't prepared to stop fighting either. He swung his legs around and pushed himself up to a sitting position, his shoulder meeting Ron's as he did so. Immediately he leaned into the contact, his heart beating with determination: they would survive. Ron turned to look at him and they shared a smile before Ron suddenly shot to his feet and stood in the centre of the floor, looking around desperately for something.

"What the fuck, Weasley?" Draco demanded, having fallen on the couch when Ron had moved.

"The Radio!" Ron shouted.

"The what now?" Draco replied, perplexed.

"Radio!" Ron continued. "It's like a muggle music box that plays music and broadcast the news."

"And tell me, Weasley, why the weather or muggle politics would be of any use to us."

"No, no, no, we wouldn't be using it for that, we can broadcast to the Order from it and get ourselves out of here!"

"And you really think that will work?" Draco didn't look impressed. "Or have you forgotten that we wouldn't even know where to begin with a Rodeo."

"_Radio_," Ron corrected him much to Draco's displeasure. "In any case, I don't see you coming up with any better ideas."

Draco took a moment to consider this.

"We could send a patronus with a message?" Draco suggested.

"And d'you know how to do that?"

"How hard can it be?" Draco thought to himself. "I'm sure I can figure it out."

"Let's not forget you're using a stolen wand," Ron reminded him.

They returned to silence again as they both considered their options. The rain continued to batter their shelter and the distant rumble of thunder echoed throughout the night sky and Ron was quick to notice Draco shudder slightly. This caused the taller boy to grin to himself and he had to bite back the urge to tease him for it. He forced himself to remember that they had faced a loss and before he knew it, Draco was urging that they get some sleep.

"I'll meet you up there," Ron called after the blonde who had already started his way up the stairs, jumping with every thunderclap.

"Don't be too long," Draco whimpered, making a mad dash for his bedroom.

Ron returned to the window, it was still impossible to see for the rain but he had a bad feeling and had to put his uneasy thoughts to rest. He made his way to the front door and silently opened it to look out onto the lawn. As soon as the door had opened a crack, the entire manor filled with the sound of rain and thunder. He scanned the grounds until he saw what he had feared: from the other side of the iron wrought gate stood the vampire, her clawed hands reaching through the bars and scraping at the air. It seemed that she couldn't pass their wards but he was beginning to fear that their safe-house was becoming a prison.

The boy swallowed hard as he forced the door shut against the wind and his back slumped down its oak length. He raked his fingers through his now fairly damp hair as he thought of their hopeless situation before berating himself for thinking so negatively: they'd already fought through a lot so far and survived. It wasn't that he hated Draco, well, he had hated Draco but circumstances had demanded their mutual trust, but he couldn't help feeling isolated. He shouldn't be here, he should be with his _real_ friends. Suddenly he felt a pang of guilt: if he had not had such bad luck, Draco would have died on the first night. He glanced upwards in the general direction of Draco's room and shook his head, no, he was glad they were both alive.

Slowly, he pushed up from the ground onto his feet and gave the door an experimental tug to make sure it was full closed before turning and making his way up the stairs. He walked straight into Draco's room, when he arrived, without paying much attention and walked head first into Draco. The shock of the impact had caused them to freeze on the spot, their bodies pressed together. Neither boy managed to pull away; they just stood there, neither daring to speak, each feeling the other's heart racing.

A roar of thunder shook the skies outside and Draco flung his arms around Ron's waist, burying his head in the red-head's chest. Ron stood wide-eyed for a moment before wrapping his arms around the other's shaking form.

"Draco?" Ron, whispered...

"Don't," Draco replied, slightly muffled by Ron's sweater. He raised his face to look at Ron's. He stepped out of the hug he hadn't intended to initiate. He wiped a tear that had filled his eye. "That didn't happen, Weasley."

"Right," said Ron, shuffling awkwardly on the spot, with his hands in his pockets.

"I sent you a patronus," Draco said, making sure to look away from Ron. "I don't suppose that's why you came up, is it?"

"Sorry," Ron sympathised, "didn't get anything."

Draco said nothing but looked disappointed. They continued to stand opposite each other in uncomfortable silence and unable to think of what to say.

It wasn't until Ron realised that tears were now flowing openly from Draco's eyes that any noise beside the weather permeated the room. He took a step towards Draco and put a hand on each of his shoulders.

"Draco," Ron started, "it's all right, mate."

"I'm not your mate," Draco sniffed. "We're only together because we're too incompetent on our own. You'd much rather be with – "

Draco was cut off as Ron's lips met his own. He felt very hot all of a sudden and had to grip onto Ron's arms to keep himself standing. Ron had just kissed him. He, Draco Malfoy, had just shared a kiss with Ron Weasley. After a few seconds of eternity, Ron took a step back and they could only look at each other. Draco's hand immediately shot to his face and his fingertips traced the essence of the kiss on his lips. His heart was beating like a drum.

Ron swallowed heavily as he watched Draco's reaction. His chest was being assaulted by his heart as he began to panic over his impulsiveness. Why had he even done that? He'd never had any desire to kiss him – as Draco had said; they were only together for survival. However now, looking at the blonde boy, he could fully take in all of Draco's features: the fine hair that glistened as the moonlight from the window caught it; the pale, almost translucent skin that covered his slender, delicate frame and most of all those silver eyes that seemed to shine, even in the dark of the unlit bedroom. When Ron looked at Draco, he felt excitement and lust. They stood in trance-like silence until it was interrupted by more thunder which began reasserted its presence.

Draco jumped and looked at Ron once again.

"You don't like storms do you?" Ron whispered.

"No," Draco panted, his mouth going dry.

"Could I," Ron hesitated, "can I take your mind off it?"

Draco wasted no time in throwing himself at Ron. Within the seconds it took for the next clash of thunder, Draco's mouth was on Ron's and they were kissing again, more passionately this time. Ron's hands found fistfuls of Draco's hair as he pulled their faces closer; Draco's hands forcing their hips together. Draco's lips parted for Ron's tongue and he found himself clinging onto the taller boy for support again as Ron explored the warm cavern of his mouth. Ron moaned into the kiss and Draco could taste his breath.

They broke apart for air only to press their lips together once more in time with the flash of lightning which lit their faces in the dark. Draco's hands fumbled with the hem of Ron's t-shirt before he pulled it up over the boy's head and threw it in a corner out of sight. His own shirt followed suit only moments later and their bare chests were pressed together. Each explored the other's warm torso with his hands as they edged their way to the bed in a tangle of arms, legs and everything in between.

The back of Draco's knees caught the bed and he and Ron fell into a heap on top of it, not let go of each other for a second. Ron stood momentarily as Draco crawled backwards to lay his head on the pillow. Ron returned to his position on top of the other boy. He looked into Draco's eyes before lowering into another kiss, a kiss which started on his lips and travelled down his face to his neck. He gently bit and sucked the soft skin of his throat eliciting great moans from Draco. He made a trail of kisses down the pale chest, pausing to gently bite down on a nipple and hearing a loud gasp.

"That fucking hurt, Weasley!" He yelled as he pushed Ron off and reversed their positions. Ron chuckled to himself and eventually Draco let out a grin as well before resuming on Ron where Ron had left off on him. He kissed his way down Ron's tan abdomen until he reached the waist of his jeans. He paused, feeling slightly nervous but not willing to show it so he shakily undid the button and, with Ron's aid, removed them completely. He looked down at the sight before him: Ron Weasley, wearing only his loose underwear. He was pleased to see the tent that had formed in them over the course of their actions.

He placed the palms of his hands on Ron's hips and lowered his head to its former position at the top of his underwear, inhaling the scent of the other boy's arousal as his lips connected with the soft flesh there.

"Draco," Ron motioned for the other boy to lay down. Ron slid the boy's dark trousers down his pale legs and straddled his waist, pressing their erections together through the fabric of their boxers, reconnecting at the lips as he did so. Draco, bit his bottom lip softly as Ron's hand slipped beneath the waistband of his underwear.

"Ng," Draco moaned, "Ron!"

Ron's hand stroked the length of his erection as their tongued got reacquainted. Draco's hands slid down Ron's back, pushing his underwear down as they reached them. He felt Ron's erection on his stomach as it sprung free from its confinement.

They could take it no longer and stopped to remove what was left of their clothes. They knelt facing each other, taking in every inch of the other's naked body. To Draco's disappointment, Ron's penis was about half an inch longer than his own and thicker too. Without warning, Ron pushed Draco back onto his back and crawled between his parted legs, pressing their arousals together again. They both gasped at the skin on skin contact.

They re-engaged in another kiss as Ron began to rock his hips slowly, rubbing their penises together. He felt Draco's breath catch in his mouth as he sped up his thrusts, all the while his hands exploring Draco's body. Draco's hands rested on Ron's well toned ass as he forced Ron to thrust harder.

"Ron, I'm gonna -" Draco whimpered as his abdomen tightened and he ejaculated spurt-after-spurt onto their chests. Ron sat back on his heels and stroked his erection till he too ejaculated, adding to the sticky mess already on Draco's belly.

Breathing heavily, Ron flopped back down onto Draco's naked form, folding his arms under the small of his back and resting his head on the other's shoulder.

"Thanks," he said, dreamily.

"Don't mention it," Draco replied, breathlessly. "Ever."

"Fuck y-" but Ron didn't finish his sentence, instead he placed a final, sloppy kiss on Draco's lips before rolling off and pulling the other boy into his arms where they fell asleep for the night. They were so caught up in each other that they never heard the rain stop; nor did they hear the creak of the garden gate or the slam of front door reverberating through the house.


	6. Chapter 6: Family Values

**Just a quick note to say thanks to everyone who has taken the time to follow or review this story, it's one of the best motivators :) and I hope you enjoy what I have to offer. **

**Chapter 6: Family Values**

Draco lay in Ron's warm embrace, his sleeping breaths tickling the back of his head. At some point, they had managed to wriggle their way under the sheets which, in Draco's now clear mind had been an awful idea. The velvet covers were now covered in fluids and he envisioned stains forming and that was enough for him to come to his senses and dart out of bed.

"Ron," he said sternly, "get up."

"Whassit?" Ron grumbled, rolling over in his sleep.

Draco could _see _stains now and he felt his blood boil. He was not amused and to see his...his _what?_ What was Ron to Draco now? He didn't feel any different from the way he usually felt, if not for a little relieved of tension. Would they just pick up where they left off and pretend none of this had happened? Draco was suddenly very aware of his heartbeat and decided that he didn't want that...did he?

He stood and watched the naked boy in his bed; he looked, for the first time in Draco's presence, completely at ease and he realised, for the first time that he himself felt at ease in the situation (if he ignored the mess of his sheets). Draco longed to know what was going through Ron's head, to know if he was thinking about their actions as much as he. Somehow he doubted the redhead was concerning himself over the consequences or what should come from the experience. He sighed and decided to let the stains set and turned his attention in search of clothing. He stepped into a pair of underwear without much thought and admitted to himself that he didn't want to be fully clothed when Ron awoke so instead of clambering into jeans and shirts and the like, he looked out the dressing gown hanging in his wardrobe.

He glanced over at Ron and decided to let the boy sleep as he made his way across the hall to his father's study, realising for the first time that they had not investigated any of the volumes in there. Perhaps it had been Draco's lost familiarity with the manor or perhaps he just didn't want to be surrounded by the ghost of his father but Draco had abhorred the thought of passing that threshold until now.

When he reached the door, he was amazed to find that it still felt taller than any of the others in the entire building – even the front door which was a structural masterpiece. He raised his hand as if to knock, catching himself off guard, and remembered his father was dead; there was no need for such foolishness. He twisted the door knob, opened the door a crack and slipped in as quietly as he could, letting the door snip shut.

His father's study wasn't much different from a smaller version of the house library downstairs but it was much more refined with its texts; his father had known exactly what he needed access to and thus stocked the room accordingly. The other primary difference was that the wall to the west side of the house was lined entirely with glass cabinets of different artefacts which Draco had never been allowed to touch. He recognised a few of them but, for the most part, they were nameless to him and probably riddled with dark magic.

He padded quietly over to the closest cabinet and inspected its contents more closely. He did this for each of the others and decided that there was nothing of any use to him stored in any of them which he was both relieved of and slightly disappointed by. He'd thought his father might have left him at least something he wouldn't be ashamed to own but his hopes had been in vain it appeared. He sighed before moving over to inspect the dark desk which was still littered with documents from his father's last use, half of it was in a language Draco didn't recognise but one thing did stand out: a photograph of his parents and he on platform nine and three quarters on his first day at Hogwarts.

He smiled fondly at his young face which was the only thing moving in the photo, his parents stood still, beaming with pride at their son and only heir. His smile faded and a look of surprise took its place when he turned the memory over and saw the elegant script of his father's handwriting.

_Draco,  
>You must heed my word, son. Unlock the vault. Do not hesitate for my time is short.<br>Father._

Draco's hand shot to his mouth as he read and re-read the hastily written note and questions flooded his mind. Could his father be alive? Could he really have survived beneath the depths of Malfoy Manor all this time? Why was his time so short? Why the vault?

He then considered what his father would make of the situation he'd found himself in with Ron. Fraternising with a blood-traitor – if you could it _fraternising_ – was definitely not appropriate of the heir to the Malfoy name. He was not proud of his father's decisions in life but Draco could not help but feel hope that it was true, that his father was alive even if it was only to disappoint him.

Without further hesitation he rushed to the door and swung it open and walked head first into a wall of sound. The noise of nails on a chalk board screeched throughout the entire manor, and then a loud thud shook the floor. Within seconds, Ron had emerged looking flustered with his jeans on backwards and wand at the ready.

"What in the bloody hell was that?" Ron whispered frantically.

"My father!" Draco answered before breaking, wandless, into a sprint with Ron hot on his heels, yelling for him to wait but clearly to no avail. They thundered down the stairs and Draco lead them to the door to the basement which was eerily hanging ajar. "This door shouldn't be open."

Ron lit his wand and handed it to Draco to take the lead and they walked close together down the dusty marble stairs into the Manor's dark marble basement. Torches on the walls lit up as they reached the bottom step illuminating countless bottles of wine neatly organised into racks and an array of dark artefacts. Draco hurried over to a wooden door on the far wall, Ron shivered as a draft from the door hit his bare chest.

"This one's open as well," Draco sounded nervous. "Maybe you ought to wait here, Weasley."

"Not a chance," Ron replied, shaking, "_Malfoy._"

Draco winced slightly, it was as if he'd forgotten they were on first name terms and he mentally berated himself for it but he didn't have time for apologies right now. He toed the door open fully and stepped onto yet another downward leading staircase to the family crypt, where the remains of his ancestors lay, surrounding an eternal flame – which lay extinguished - in a semi-circle all facing a portrait the size of the far wall of the first Malfoy in recorded history. Draco would have explained all of this to Ron had he not realised said portrait was hanging crookedly off the wall and there was a large gash in the canvas. Someone had pried it free from the wall enough to enter the passage it concealed, to the family vault, to whatever Lucius Malfoy had left for them.

Without a moment's thought he had clambered through the gap with much protest from Ron and was in the vault in no time. The room was light and full of the family's most prized heirlooms from a giant mirror on the left to the tiniest of jewels in the most expensive of display cases to a solid gold sledgehammer in a corner. In the centre of the room stood the opposite of what he had expected to see.

Narcissa Malfoy stood, her head facing the right with her body away from Draco. He saw a single tear trickle slowly down her ashen face as he realised she stood over the body of his father. Judging by the awful smell in the room it had been there for a while yet the blood on his throat and chest looked a little too bright for a corpse.

"Mother?" Draco spoke quietly into the room.

Narcissa turned silently on the spot to face her child. She raised her arms in front of her, revealing tattered sleeves and bloody hands as she began to walk slowly toward him.

Ron entered the room and walked straight into Draco's back, startling the blonde. "What's going on?"

Draco swallowed hard before taking a step towards his mother's outstretched arms. She was still crying but her face was devoid of emotion and she made no sounds. Draco didn't care how quiet she was, he'd assumed she was dead. Another step and he could smell her perfume, could almost taste it in the air. He waited no longer and burst into a run, enveloping the woman in his arms, the stench of death permeating the air, the further into the room he got.

Ron watched from a distance, not wanting to intrude, and instead tried focusing on the items all around the room. Noticing a large cane that resembled one that he remembered Lucius had once carried. He could hear Draco sobbing and he glanced over once more at the pair, Narcissa's blood soaked hand holding her son's head. Her eyes were dark and seemed somewhat sunken into her bony face. When she moved her hand to stroke Draco's hair, he noticed something peculiar from the corner of his eye.

He had seen Draco's shoulders moving in the large mirror to his left but paid had paid no attention to it as this was expected: when a person moves; their reflection moves too. There was no movement in the corner of his eye when Narcissa stroked her son's head. He turned his attention fully to the mirror now and his heart began racing.

"DRACO MOVE!" Ron yelled, running towards the two bodies opposite him. By the time he reached them, Narcissa's face had morphed into something ugly. Her eyes were black and her mouth was wet and her teeth pointed. Draco jumped back at once, allowing Ron to grab hold of his arm and put his own body between Draco and his mother, protecting him while he recovered from the shock.

The distorted face chuckled darkly, flashing those frighteningly sharp dentures once more as she stepped closer to the boys, slowly like a tiger before it pounces. Ron started to step backwards pushing Draco as he did.

Narcissa did not look like the Vampire that had been stalking them. She retained her human appearance, at least until she had been ready to tear Draco apart. The only thing wrong with her appearance was the fangs; the fangs and her eyes that were like black holes sucking the light from anything that touched them.

"You never told me your mum was home," Ron tried to make light of the situation.

"That thing is not my mother," Draco whimpered from behind him. He passed Ron's wand back to him, "I can't."

"On the count of three I want you to start running," Ron said steadily but unable to mask the panic in his voice. "One. Two," he started but didn't reach number three as Narcissa dashed at them with lightning speed. Their reflexes sent them diving out of the way in time but Ron had felt her sleeve brush his knee so it had been incredibly close. He'd also dropped his wand in the movement and thus lay, unarmed on the cold floor.

Draco was quick to his feet however and was in possession of the wand in no time. Narcissa had also wasted no time in recovering from her missed target and flew at Ron only to receive a stunning spell to the back. She shrieked with pain or rage and turned; claws raised and pounced at Draco. This time she connected with her target and it was hard enough to send them both to the floor. The scene in front of Ron was a flurry of arms as the Vampire Narcissa's claws found Draco's torso eliciting scream after scream from her son.

"DRACO!" Ron yelled, picking up the first thing that came to hand – the cane he'd spotted earlier – and without a moment's pause, charged at the vampire and swung the cane hard, so hard that it splintered and snapped in half when it connected with her skull. Another shriek and she abandoned her assault on Draco to chase Ron to the other side of the vault – pinning him against the wall when she caught him.

"_Brat!" _ she spat in a voice that seemed to have its own echo. Ron screwed his eyes shut and turned away from the stench of decay that he realised was in fact coming from Narcissa and not the dead body, six feet away from him. She screeched and her fangs extended and sharpened as she lowered her face to Ron's neck. Her pointed tongue darted from her mouth and traced his jugular in a long line from his collar bone to his jaw before dropping back to arms length to look him over once more. "_I've heard redheads have warmer blood than other people." _The vampire cackled once more as she descended once more on his expose throat. He could feel the tips of her teeth on the soft flesh for a moment and then she was gone freeing his arms from her titanium grip.

He opened his eyes to see her on the floor with Draco standing above her writhing body, the golden sledgehammer in his hands. He had swung it at her legs to topple her – it looked like he'd even succeeded in breaking one of them.

"And you're not getting a drop of it," Draco growled, his chest bleeding from the nasty gash she'd given him. All at once, her face had morphed back to Narcissa's regular, almost beautiful face. Draco sat the hammer on its head at his feet.

"_There's a good boy, Draco," _it crooned to him in his mother's face. _"Help me, baby, help your mother stand, Draco. Your mother's hurt and she needs her big, strong boy to help her." _A tear filled Draco's eye as he squatted and looked his mother in the eye.

"Draco, don't," Ron pleaded, still flush against the wall. To Ron's dismay, the blonde took her normal-looking hand in his. He gave the hand a squeeze and Narcissa looked up at him with a truly convincing smile of a mother in the company of her only son.

"_My_ mother is dead," Draco whispered as he pulled a length of the broken cane from the pocket of his dressing gown and stabbed it, mercilessly into his mother's chest. Letting go of the cold hand he stood and watched her writhe in pain, tears cracked the pale contours of her face.

"_No Draco," _she gasped, _"you wouldn't do this to your own mother." _

Draco said nothing but lifted the golden sledgehammer once again and raised it above his head with both hands. He thanked the gods that the vampire returned to the beastly disfigured version of his mother again and started hissing as he brought the hammer down on the cane, driving it through the breast-bone into the Vampire-Narcissa's heart.

All at once, her face returned to human beauty and her eyes shifted from black to the grey that matched his own as she gasped her last breath and turned to look at her son.

"Thank you," she whispered, her breath hitching, "Draco..."

The body fell still.

"Mum!" he cried, dropping to his knees, his body shaking uncontrollaly. He caressed her cheek with the back of his trembling hand and bit his lower lip as tears overflowed his eyes and tumbled down his cheek. Ron was beside him on the floor now, his big arm around his shoulder, pulling him to his chest. Draco turned into the embrace, burying his face in Ron's bare shoulder as he cried, pounding everything within his reach with his fists in a fit of exasperated rage.

"Let it out," Ron comforted him, cradling Draco's head as he lashed out at the floor, placing a kiss gently on his crown when his thrashing stopped and stroking his hair as he wailed through a pain that few so young ever felt; the bodies of his parents within touching distance.

The crying stopped eventually and for a while they just sat there, in silence, not for lack of anything to say but because there was nothing that needed said. When the silence _was_ eventually broken, it was Draco who spoke. "Let's move."

"Do you want to get out of here?" Ron asked delicately, following Draco to his feet.

"Not yet," Draco said with a sniff, "my father brought me down here for something. We can't leave till I find it."

Ron nodded his understanding then helped Draco cover his mother's body with an expensive looking quilt they found in a chest alongside the jewel cabinets and entwined his fingers in Draco's earning him a gasp and a surprised look. The blonde shifted somewhat uncomfortably at first then accepted the gesture but made sure not to look at Ron for the duration of the contact...


End file.
